


Afterward, the compromise.

by zjofierose



Series: star, star verse (YOI poly verse) [12]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adoption, Communication, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Loss, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Polyamory, Post-Canon, big life decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28587354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: When Otabek's cousin dies and leaves behind an infant, there's only one thing to do.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: star, star verse (YOI poly verse) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596319
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: YOI Rare Pair Week 2021





	Afterward, the compromise.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of YOI Rarepair Week 2021! Prompt was "surprises". Not sure this one got to quite where I wanted it to be, but. I tried. 
> 
> Thank you to Tutti for handholding, uwu. Titles for all of this week's fics are from here: [After Love](https://apoemaday.tumblr.com/post/634150935491493888/after-love)
> 
> Please see end notes for clarification on the tags.

There’s nothing unusual about Otabek receiving a call during dinner. His family are close, and they talk often. So when his phone begins vibrating a few days into January, Otabek glances at his phone, then ignores it as he normally would during a meal. 

A minute or two passes, but it immediately begins to ring again. Otabek glances at the ID, frowns, and stands, pulling out his chair and stepping away even as he answers. 

The others shrug and go back to their dinner, the murmur of Kazakh carrying faintly from the other room registering as a sound of no consequence until Otabek gives a sudden gasp. There’s a long pause, then a rush of speaking, Otabek’s voice thick and urgent, followed by a muffled sob. 

“What-” Yuri starts to rise from his seat, but Victor catches at him, his face grave.

“Don’t interrupt,” he says. “We’ll know soon enough.”

“Let me go, old man.” Yuri squirms against Victor’s grip, but Yuuri shakes his head too, and Yuri goes still. 

“If it’s something bad, it’s best to let him finish it all at once,” Yuuri tells him, and Yuri settles back into his chair, pushing angrily at the food on his plate.

“It doesn’t feel right to leave him alone.”

“I know, Yura.” Victor’s hand is cold but strong. “But we’re here for him as soon as he’s ready.”

\--

It’s not long before Otabek returns, his hands shaking and his face a mask of distress. He sinks down in his chair, and Yuri immediately climbs into his lap, winding his arms around Otabek’s shoulders and holding him as he buries his face in Yuri’s neck. Victor and Yuuri join them, Yuuri on his knees at Otabek’s side, Victor standing behind so he can wrap his arms around them all.

The silence is broken only by the sound of Otabek’s labored breathing for a long time, the faint sound of cars in the street a distant counterpoint.

When he speaks, his voice is thick and strange, and Yura clutches him all the closer. The words are muffled by Yura’s shirt.

“My cousin, Amina,” he says, “she grew up with us. She was like a sister to me. She-” he stops, holding his breath. “There was an accident,” he says finally, and the world spins fast around them. “She and her husband. They both died.”

“Oh, Bekasha,” Victor sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll all go with you for the funeral,” Yura says, his voice firm. “We’ll be there to support you, we’ll-”

“No,” Otabek says, raising his head at last, pressing his cheek to Yura’s. “No, the accident happened this morning. They’ll be buried tonight. Even if I left now, I wouldn’t make it back in time.”

“What do you want us to do?” Yuuri, on his knees, his glasses glinting in the overhead light. “How can we help?”

Otabek takes a deep, shuddering breath, his hands flexing on Yura’s hips as he looks at each face in turn.

“Well, Amina…” he shakes his head, then lifts his chin, determined. “She had a child.”

\---

Because they are all ostensibly adults, and because Victor did too much panic-reading about communication theory when they first all got together, they agree to talk about it in the morning at a household meeting, and tonight focus on cleaning up dinner and getting ready for bed. It’s awkward, and the haze of grief hangs heavy in the house, but they are all masters of ignoring discomfort in favor of the task at hand.

Breakfast the next morning is a somber affair. Otabek doesn’t seem to have slept much, his eyes red-rimmed and his face grim. Yuri is clingy, distressed that Otabek is distressed, while Yuuri is stress-cooking them all more breakfast than any of them need. 

Victor is on his laptop, ignoring the rest of them, glasses perched on the end of his nose and his beautifully impenetrable Cyrillic scrawl covering the small notebook at his elbow. 

The meal itself is quiet, all of them too caught in their thoughts to make conversation, the weight of both Otabek’s mourning and their unknown future suffocating in the air around them. The sounds of silverware on plates and hands on glasses fills the room until the dishes are cleared and Yuri slams himself into a chair, arms crossed.

“You want us to adopt a kid.”

Otabek blinks from where he’s pulling out his own chair. Victor and Yuuri pause in the motions of loading the dishwasher and washing their hands, then turn to finish their activities before making their way to the freshly-cleared table.

“Well, technically I’d be the one doing the legal adopting,” Otabek says slowly, “but yes. I want us to raise Amina’s child.”

“Why?” Yuri’s tone is wary. “Why us? You have other family. Family there in Almaty, where this kid was born.”

“Her name is Inzhu,” Otabek says, and pulls out his phone. There’s a picture on it, a dark haired baby with round cheeks and Otabek’s straight eyebrows. “She’s six months old.”

Yuuri pulls the phone over to look and smiles. “I remember when the triplets were that age,” he says fondly. “I don’t think Yuuko and Takeshi slept for a year.”

“Do they sleep now?” Victor asks, and Yuri snorts. 

“The girls are turning fifteen? I doubt it.”

“Why us, though?” Yuuri asks, handing the phone back. “We’ve never even discussed whether any of us want kids. And you and Yuri are still skating. I’m in school, Victor’s coaching and choreographing. There must be someone better to take her.”

“There’s really not,” Otabek sighs, putting his phone away. He spreads his hands on the tablecloth, the morning light glinting off his ring. “Amina lived with us from the time she was thirteen - she’s estranged from her parents, and her husband’s from a very large, very poor family. They can’t afford to take Inzhu, and Amina would  _ hate _ for her parents to raise her daughter.”

“What about your parents? Or your sisters?” Victor asks gently. He’s set the laptop aside, but he has the notepad handy. 

“My parents were older when they had us to begin with. My father’s seventy, and his health isn’t great. My mother works and takes care of him. Ayala is in college, she can’t really take on an infant, and Adina is still only sixteen.”

“But it’s not like we’d be any better!” Yuri’s outburst echoes in the quiet of the house. “None of us know how to be parents. I’ve never even  _ held _ a baby, and I bet Katsudon and Vitya haven’t either.”

“I have,” Victor muses, tapping a pencil against his lips. “Not recently, though.”

“My  _ point _ is,” Yuri continues, “that we don’t know the first thing about babies. Or kids. And we’re not ready to have one.  _ If _ any of us even want one. So it wouldn’t be good for her, and we shouldn’t do it.” He leans back in his chair with a thump.

“I think we could,” Victor says, and Otabek’s eyes flash to him as he taps the notebook. “I’ve looked into some of the legal questions. Since Amina had no closer kin - no siblings, for example - and since there’s ample evidence that she was estranged from her parents, and that her husband’s family wouldn’t make a bid for Inzhu, Otabek stands a good chance of an uncontested adoption. His parents or his sisters would too, but if they don’t challenge, and if Otabek petitions, there’s no reason I could find that the state would object.”

“But - but,  _ Vitya _ !” Yuri’s mouth is open, and at the other end of the table Yuuri looks equally distressed. 

Victor shrugs. “We have plenty of money. We have a house. There are four of us and one of her. I think we could handle it.”

“You don’t even  _ like _ babies!” Yuri bursts out, rising from his seat. 

“Sure I do,” Victor counters. “I spent time around my younger siblings when they were babies before I went to live with Yakov. I don’t know how to parent one, but neither do lots of people who end up with infants.” He shrugs. “I bet Mama Katsuki would come stay with us for a little bit and help us adjust. Or Yuuko or Takeshi. They could bring the girls, it’d be good for them to practice with the juniors here for a bit anyway.”

“Vitya, are you sure?” Otabek asks, his tone cautious, but his eyes hopeful. 

Victor nods, closing the notepad. “If it’s what you want to do, Beka, I’m with you.”

“Well, I’m not.” Yuuri’s voice is strong from the end of the table. “This is a big decision, and I don’t feel prepared to make it.” His cheeks are pink, and his eyes are anxious, but his hands have balled into determined fists. “I’ve never wanted kids, and I’m sorry about Amina, Otabek, but I think this is too fast.”

“Me too,” Yuri adds, not looking at any of them. “I - Beka, you  _ know _ how much I love you, but this is too much to ask.”

“I’m not asking,” Otabek says calmly. “This is what I’m doing, and it’s up to you whether you want to be a part of it or not.”

Silence falls and clutches tight, a held breath reverberating. Yuri breaks it by throwing his napkin down and stalking out of the room. Yuuri’s face wobbles, but he follows. 

“Well,” Otabek says, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “That went well.”

“You did rather give them an ultimatum,” Victor observes, finger back across his lips. “They’ll come around. I think.”

\--

Otabek goes to find Yuuri first. Yura will come to him of his own accord, but doesn’t like to be pressured. Yuuri, on the other hand, occasionally needs to be pursued before he spins himself into a morass of upset, and disagreeing about something as big as this…

Otabek gives it a few hours, then makes two cups of Japanese green tea and goes out to the hot tub. 

His guess is right - with Yuri and Victor gone to the rink, Yuuri had been hiding in the studio, dancing through his thoughts until he’d either come to a more clear place in his mind, or worn himself out, or both. After that, his natural, onsen-bred instinct is to head for the hot water. 

Otabek sets a cup of tea down next to Yuuri and strips, sliding into the tub beside him. 

Silence stretches between them, steam rolling off the hot water into the cold air around them.

“I really  _ am _ sorry for your loss,” Yuuri says eventually, staring into the middle difference and fidgeting with his toes. 

“I know,” Otabek tells him, and reaches over to catch his hand. “I never doubted it.”

“If I lost Mari, I-”

Otabek squeezes his fingers, lets Yuuri pull him close until they’re sitting pressed against each other, hip to shoulder. He lets his head fall onto Yuuri’s bare shoulder. “I hope you never find out what it feels like,” he whispers, and silence stretches again.

“Why do you want this?” Yuuri asks after a while. “I didn’t even know you wanted kids.” He pauses, and there’s a world of hurt in his voice when he adds, “Or that Victor did.”

“Because she is my family.” Otabek answers. “She deserves better than to grow up with the people who mistreated her mother. She deserves more than to grow up an extra, forgotten child, in a family where resources are already stretched too thin.” 

“But why does it need to be _you_?” Yuuri’s voice is quiet. “Things are so good right now.”

“Because there is no one else who can do it.” Otabek closes his eyes. “And for the sake of the love I bore for her mother, I would see Inzhu loved well.” He pauses; thinks. “What if, when the triplets were babies, something had happened to Yuuko and Takeshi? Would you have let them go to the state? Or to someone who couldn’t do right by them?”

“That wouldn’t have happened,” Yuuri says firmly, “the Nishigoris and the Tohatas would have taken care of them.”

“But what if they couldn’t?”

Yuuri huffs. “I was still seventeen when the girls were born. I wouldn’t have dropped out of school to raise them.” He’s quiet for a while, fingers idly rubbing at Otabek’s. “But if there were no one else, my mom would have taken them,” he says, voice resigned, and Otabek nods.

“I’m not seventeen,” he says. “And I’m not in school.”

“No,” Yuuri answers with some asperity. “But Yura’s only twenty-one. And you’re both still in the middle of your careers. How does that work?”

“Like any other working parent,” Otabek says. “Amina was going to grad school in the fall. She and Shokhrukh would have made it work. I can make it work, too.”

“I’d be a terrible parent,” Yuuri says quickly, his fingers clutching at Otabek’s. “I’m selfish. I forget things. I’m over-reactive and anxious. Phichit wouldn’t even let me watch his hamsters when he went away because it stressed me out too much.”

“I’m not asking you to raise her alone, Yuusha.”

Yuuri’s voice drops. “My parents were so good. I don’t - I don’t know how to be that. And I don’t want to end up resenting a child.”

“Did you resent Vicchan?”   
  
“No, of course not. But a dog isn’t the same thing as a baby.”

“No,” Otabek tips his head in agreement. “But the principle is similar. When you had to take Vicchan out first thing in the morning in December, did you hate him? Or think less of him?”

“No. But I did hate having to do it.”

“But you didn’t blame  _ him _ for it. And you didn’t forget.”

Yuuri gives a sharp laugh. “He wouldn’t have let me. And if I’d somehow slept through his scratching at my door, Mari-nee would have shouted me awake.”

“And you think a baby is going to let you sleep through it being hungry? Or that Yura would?”

Yuuri’s laugh is softer this time. “No. But Beka - what if…” he trails off. Otabek finishes his tea. His toes are getting wrinkly, which means Yuuri’s must be almost there. “What if I screw it up? It’s not a dog. It’s a person. It’s a whole _life_. I don’t feel… I don’t feel big enough for that.”

“You’re big enough for me,” Otabek tells him. “And for Yura. And for Victor. You have been for years and years now. And you haven’t screwed that up.”

“Not for want of trying,” Yuuri bites out, body tensing. 

“But you haven’t. Not in ways that have been irreparable.”

Yuuri sighs and stands up, reaching for the robe that hangs nearby. 

“I’ll light a candle for Amina,” he says, and Otabek nods, watching as Yuuri disappears into the house.

\--

Yuri doesn’t find him until late in the evening, but when he does, he walks into Otabek’s room and drops on the bed without preamble. His face is twisted in a way Otabek hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“Would you really leave us for a baby?” he asks, point-blank, and Otabek stares. 

“I...what?”

“You said that you’re not asking. You said it was up to us whether to join you or not.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Otabek grabs Yuri and drags him down onto the bed, wrapping them together and tangling their legs. “I’m sorry, Yurasha. No, I didn’t mean I’d leave. I’ll never leave.”

“What else is saying something like that supposed to  _ mean _ ?” Yuri sobs, and Otabek holds him tightly. 

“I’m sorry, Yurasha. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“She’s just some  _ baby _ ,” Yuri chokes out, his fists balled in Otabek’s sweatshirt. “Why do you want  _ her _ more than  _ us _ .”

“She’s not just some baby, Yurasha,” he murmurs, stroking up and down Yuri’s back. “She’s family.”

“ _ We’re _ family,” Yuri growls, “you’re supposed to pick us first.”

“I don’t have to pick,  _ tigrionok _ . I am going to adopt her, but I wouldn’t break us up. Not for anything.”   
  
“But how would that even  _ work _ ? If we decide we don’t want in, how can you have her without leaving us?”

Yuri’s voice is still rough and thin, but he’s not actively sobbing anymore, which Otabek counts as a win. 

“Some things would have to change. Maybe I’d move downstairs if you all decided you were okay with sharing a house with her, but not okay with acting as parents. Or maybe we’d convert the space above the garage into an apartment, and I’d live there with her. We’d figure something out.”

“I didn’t even know you wanted kids,” Yuri grumbles, his face still hidden in Otabek’s chest. “I don’t want you living in some stupid apartment.”

“I’ve always wanted kids,” Otabek says calmly, “but I didn’t really think it was going to be a concern for a while, so I never really talked about it.”

“How will you keep skating with a baby? You’re having such a good season, Beka, don’t just give it up!”

“I’ll figure it out. If I have to retire, I will, but I don’t think I’ll have to. Other figure skaters have had babies and kept skating; I won’t even have to recover from pregnancy.”

Yuri snorts, then sobers.  “I’m sorry, Beka. I know how much Amina meant to you,” he says softly, and suddenly the events of the last twenty-four hours break over Otabek, and it’s his turn to cling to Yuri and cry.

\--

They go to bed.

Otabek lies awake for a long time, eventually sitting up to stare into the darkness of the room and think. He’s booked a flight home for tomorrow. Four Continents is next week, but he can either go straight from Almaty or he can miss it in favor of the Olympics, which start in a month. It’s tight, but doable. He won’t let it affect his performance any more than it absolutely has to.

He’s made a list on his phone and pulls it up now, screen dim in the dark. Yura is snoring to his left, arms tight around a tiger plushie, while Yuuri is burritoed in the blankets to his right. He’s so focused on the details ( _ he’ll have to get her a passport before he can take her out of the country; it’d probably be smart to get her last name legally changed to his; are carseats required on airplanes? he doesn’t think so, but he should check _ ) that he doesn’t hear Victor sit up at first, and nearly startles when those long fingers touch his bare shoulder. 

“I booked a flight for the day after tomorrow,” Victor whispers, and Yuuri snuffles softly between them, quieting when Victor runs a hand over his head. 

“Victor, I-” Otabek feels surprised, but in hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t be. “What about Four Continents? Yura’s going to want you there. And Mila.”

“I can fly from Almaty just as well as you can, and Yakov can crawl out of his recliner and keep an eye on them for a couple weeks,” Victor shrugs. “You deserve someone there to support you.” 

Otabek can feel his eyes swimming. He reaches across the sleeping Yuuri to wrap Victor’s fingers in his own, bringing them to his mouth to kiss. 

“Thank you,” he whispers when he can trust himself to speak. “Thank you, Vitka.”

Victor’s hand squeezes his. “You know,” he says, “I had been planning to wait till Yuri was a little older to bring it up, but this is good, too.” Victor grins. “All families need a practice baby, right?”

“Absolutely.” Otabek chuckles. “According to my mother, that’s what I was, and I seem to have turned out alright.”

Victor hums. “Well,” he says, “we’ll give the jury a little longer on that one, shall we.”

Otabek reaches over and pinches him, making Victor jump and yelp, and Yuuri grumbles in his sleep. They both freeze, but Yuuri subsides as Yura snores on. 

“Watch it,” Otabek teases him, “I’ll put you on the adoption certificate, too, and make you just as officially responsible as me.”

“Would you?” Victor’s whole face changes, and Otabek catches his breath. “I’d...I’d really like that.”

“Of course, Vitka,” he answers softly. “She’ll be lucky to have a father like you.”

\--

Otabek wakes in the morning to his alarm and the sound of Yuri’s muffled threats. He feels kind of like a truck hit him, but he figures like that’s going to be par for the course for a while, so he may as well get used to it now. He rolls over and grabs the alarm, climbing over Yuri to get out of bed and into the bathroom. 

He’s halfway done showering when the door opens and Yuri drags the curtain back. Otabek blinks, shampoo rinsing out of his hair. 

“I might be more like a much older brother than a dad,” he states, and Otabek tips his head back to rinse, then nods.

“Okay,” he says, “that’s fine. I don’t know how much that distinction will matter for a few years anyway.”

“Yeah.” Yuri nods sharply and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’m fine with helping out, and like - babysitting and shit, just. I’m not done with what I’m doing yet.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to be,” Otabek tells him, reaching for the conditioner. “I’m not done yet either. Being a parent doesn’t mean your life stops, it just means you have someone else you’re responsible for.”

Yuri looks away. “Not like I’d know,” he states flatly, and Otabek’s heart gives a treacherous thump. 

“She’s going to love you, Yurasha,” he says softly, and watches Yuri’s cheeks flush.

“Yeah, well. Guess I’ll let you shower,” Yuri answers, and yanks the shower curtain back into place. 

\--

He’s all packed and putting on his shoes when Yuuri comes banging down the stairs, still in his pajamas and with bedhead sticking up all over. He’s waving his phone at Otabek frantically.

“Beka,” he calls, “Beka, wait!”

Yuuri skids to a halt in front of Otabek waving his phone, which Otabek can now see is turned to a video call. Yuuri’s face is flushed and his eyes are big and bright as he watches Otabek carefully. 

Otabek leans in. “ _ Konichiwa _ , Oka-san.”

“Beka-chan,” Katsuki Hiroko coos at him from Japan, “I hear you’re making me a grandma?” She clasps her hands together in front of her and bounces in place as Otabek’s eyes rise to Yuuri, who looks embarrassed, but happy as he nods. 

“ _ Hai _ , Oka-san,” he says carefully, his fingers tight on his boot laces so that he doesn’t shake apart with relief. “If you would like to be.”

“Ah!” Hiroko beams. “Yes! Please! And first! Send me every picture you have!”

Otabek laughs, his heart an aching joy in his chest. "I promise," he says solemnly. "All the pictures I can find."

"Oh, _good_ ," Hiroko says. "And tell me, Beka-chan, what is my new granddaughter's name?"

"Inzhu," he answers, and smiles.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Beka's cousin, who he grew up with and was close to, dies suddenly off-screen, leaving a six month old baby. The baby never actually features in the fic, but she is the central conflict of the story, and forces the characters to grapple with their own good-to-not-so-good childhoods to some extent.
> 
> Also, to be clear, re: Amina's husband's family - I am not in any way implying that poor families can't or shouldn't raise kids. For the purposes of this story, this particular underprivileged family would consider this baby an extra burden, and Otabek doesn't want that for her. That's all!
> 
> Find me on twitter @zjofierose
> 
> Comments are love, please please love me!


End file.
